


more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of

by whirligigged



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, M/M, Team Gluttony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:50:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2249718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whirligigged/pseuds/whirligigged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't that they were friends. Arthur was an angel. Angels weren't <i>friends</i> with demons. But after a while, you just got to know someone. And Arthur had known Merlin since the Beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of

**Author's Note:**

> The expanded version of an entry for Merlin Summerpornathon 2012, week 6, the "Crossover/Fusions" challenge. I chose the wonderful book _Good Omens_ , by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.
> 
> If you prefer audio, please check out the [podfic version](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2746217), recorded by the talented [bravenclawsome](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bravenclawesome/pseuds/bravenclawesome).

> "And just when you'd think they were more malignant than ever Hell could be, they could occasionally show more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of. Often the same individual was involved. It was this free-will thing, of course. It was a bugger." - _Good Omens_

It wasn't that they were friends. Arthur was an angel. Angels weren't _friends_ with demons. But after a while, you just got to know someone. And Arthur had known Merlin since the Beginning.

The infernal creature had slipped out of a tree and slithered up to Arthur's ankle. They had watched together as the two figures wandered away, further and further, until they became impossibly small against the backdrop of the unknown distance. 

"This is your fault," Arthur had said.

If a serpent could shrug, that was what Merlin did. "Only acting according to my nature. Isn't that what you all sssay? _I_ didn't kick them out." The figures finally disappeared from sight. "You'd think He'd be more open-minded. He _made_ them. I don't sssee why He's all sssurprised about it now, if you asssk me."

"Well, no one did ask, so you can rest easy," Arthur snapped, having caught himself wondering the same thing. He'd watched them their whole lives, and he'd never seen them weep before today. That was the last way he'd seen them, faces twisted, lashes crusted in salt, wailing as they left behind everything they knew. "It's all in the plan," he said firmly. He didn't know what, precisely, the plan was, but, "It's ineffable."

"Whatever you sssay, angel," Merlin had said. "I'm off. Got to report back. They might even give me legs now. I'll sssee you around." 

Arthur did see him around. For eons. Not all the time, not even every year or decade. He'd tried to maintain a respectable hostility, but they were both the longest-serving agents of their respective kinds on earth. In theory, they could not have been more at odds. They were opposites in nature. 

But in practice, he had to admit that he didn't spend much time with his own stock. What peers he might have were Above, and he didn't begrudge them that. But he wasn't certain any of them fathomed how short human lifespans were, how nevertheless they accomplished so much in their brief, bright flares of life. Merlin was the one being Arthur knew who'd seen it all from the ground, lived it all, just as Arthur had.

As generation after generation of humans sparked and faded, Merlin remained the one familiar face. One...grew accustomed. It was natural.

So he noticed, straight away, that something was different tonight. 

Merlin's human body, though he'd gone through several models throughout the years as Arthur had, always managed to be a tall, gangling thing no matter its form. Far too thin for someone originally of angel stock, if you asked Arthur. An immortal being like Merlin had no business looking half-starved, as though he'd crawled out of the barren landscape of Hell just yesterday.

Arthur had never been Below, of course. But Merlin in the early days had often enough complained of the state of things down there, when Arthur needled him about his gluttony. "They just do things better up here," Merlin had once insisted, licking honey off his fingers and missing the smears about his mouth. "Nothing's forever here. I intend to enjoy it while it lasts. So should you." Arthur had scoffed, but he had tried the honey later, not that Merlin had left much over. It had been delicious.

Arthur had used to wonder whether a demon shouldn't be more seductive in appearance, rather than slouching about looking as lanky and harried as Merlin did.1 Yet there was something about Merlin that drew out the trust of others. Humans always seemed happy to perform little sins for him. Old ladies in particular loved to shoplift him sweets, pressing them into his hands and urging him to put some fat on those bones. 

"I do what I can with what I have. We can't all possess the celestial proportions of a Michelangelo, angel," Merlin sometimes said ironically, poking Arthur's biceps. Being an angel, Arthur very dutifully didn't flush with pride.2

But this evening Merlin had sauntered, rather than gangled his way, into the Ritz. He did not immediately hunch possessively over his plate as though panting hellhounds hovered to snatch what was left unclaimed. He instead relaxed into his chair and sipped his wine as though he'd finally realized he really did have all the time in the world. 

Merlin's ever-present sunglasses hid his telltale yellow eyes. The shades normally looked awkward and out of place in a dim London restaurant in the evening. Tonight, they somehow looked...cool, though Arthur didn't intend to give Merlin the satisfaction of pointing it out.

But he couldn't contain himself when he realized, near the end of their meal, that Merlin's cheekbones looked particularly wicked in this light. They'd frequented the Ritz and sat under these same lights for nearly twenty years, with no such alarming effects previously. 

Arthur leaned forward, accusatory. "You're _smoldering_."

Merlin had the grace3 to look guilty. "I'm under my quota for seduction," he muttered.

"Merlin, you're always under your quota for seduction." He wasn't quite sure if that was true, but to Arthur's satisfaction, Merlin's rueful face confirmed the suspicion. 

"They haven't been able to keep proper track down there since I introduced bureaucracy." He sighed. "Did I tell you I got a commendation for that? But now the quota bit's come back to bite me. I think the Lady Morgana put a word in. She's got it out for me. Ooh, maybe he'd work." Merlin straightened, and raised his eyebrows at a young man across the room, who blushed and clutched at his pretty fiance's hand. 

"Merlin!" 

He slumped, and scowled over his sunglasses. "I've got to. Imagine if I'm fired? I much prefer working up here. Much less fire. And humans practically do my job for me."

"And you'll repay them by inflicting all...all of _this_ on them!" Arthur gestured at Merlin's normally awkward frame. Merlin's figure was doing Arthur's argument the discourtesy of retaining the effects of Merlin's smoldering. It was awful. The room might even be getting the general impression that Merlin was lithe and alluring, rather than—than _Merlin_. "Don't you dare wreck that poor man's relationship."

Merlin gulped down the rest of his wine. "Fine. But if I pull a really good one—well, bad one—it might count for more, and then I'd only have to do it the once. I hardly _want_ to. Why do you think I've been under quota for the past, er...it's been some time. Look at them! The thought isn't terribly _appealing_. Humans are brilliant, but they're all fragile. And squishy. What if I broke one? I can hardly enjoy getting it off with..." 

Merlin's rambling trailed off as he narrowed his eyes, an expression of Merlin's that never boded well. The last time Arthur had seen it, it had preceded the invention of the internet, though to this day Merlin claimed the humans had managed that one all on their own. 

And then Merlin was smoldering again. At Arthur.

Arthur's eyes widened. "Stop that right now!"

Merlin tilted his head, baring his neck enticingly. "Should I, Arthur? We walk among them, pretend to be them, but we've never understood this part of them. Haven't you been curiousss?" Merlin asked. The hiss came out when he was distracted, but Arthur couldn't help but think it was on purpose this time, the little snake. 

Arthur licked his parched lips. He wet them with a generous sip of wine. "Lust is a sin. Angels don't sin, it's not in our nature."

"And greed, angel?" Merlin asked. "Don't think I don't know you're keeping an eye on that Assyrian sword in Belfast."

"Please, Merlin, that man doesn't deserve to call himself a collector! With the state he's keeping it in, he'd be _lucky_ for me to take it off his hands." 

Merlin put his hand atop one of Arthur's. Their usual waiter, Lance, had been witness to their bickering for several years now and only delivered the check if they'd first assured him they'd made up. He was eyeing them approvingly from the door of the kitchen. Arthur took another hasty gulp of wine.

"Envy. Wrath. Look at you. You've been down in the trenches for a long time. Humanity's a beautiful thing, Arthur. You've lived things they wouldn't understand up there. What's one more sin?" asked Merlin, and grinned. 

He'd always had a cheerful, particularly guileless grin for someone with his job description. Or perhaps that was what made him effective as the Adversary. Arthur pulled his hand from underneath Merlin's and put it, somewhat uselessly, upon his fork. He'd finished his dessert. 

"Gluttony," Merlin said, pointing at Arthur's empty plate with his own fork before taking a bite from his only half-finished chocolate cake, which was hardly even fair. Normally it would be Arthur rolling his eyes as Merlin moved on from his own finished meal to start working on Arthur's. Instead, Merlin carefully scraped the cream topping his cake and thoughtfully licked it off his fork. "And. Well. Don't even get me started on pride. Not with you."

The wine was not quite having the desired effect, for Arthur was unable to hide his reddening cheeks. Merlin smiled again. He reached over, just barely skimming Arthur's cheek with his knuckles, and Arthur felt his flush spread. "Mm. That does look nice on you," Merlin said. 

His words were designed to captivate, dripping in promise. The startling unfamiliarity of it, found in a voice that over the course of millennia had grown to be utterly familiar, shook through the confusion of wine and lust. 

Arthur jerked away from Merlin's outstretched hand. "Merlin. What are you doing?" he asked again.

The haze of allure that clung to Merlin flickered and dimmed, but his yellow eyes glowed suddenly bright, fervent.

"Arthur. Please. I could tempt, Hell, any number of them," he said, sweeping his arm at the bright, temporary humans around them. "But I'd rather— _we're_ —" 

Arthur found himself leaning forward, needing the end of that thought. 

But Merlin, noticing, stuttered to a stop and cleared his throat. "Never mind. That was stupid." He began to lay some money on the table, not looking at Arthur anymore. "Let me sober up and we can go." Merlin concentrated, then winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ugh," he said. When he glanced up at Arthur over his sunglasses, his eyes looked clear, hardly glowing at all.

Arthur would have done the same, but he was already feeling quite sober. 

He moved to pay as well, but Merlin waved the money away. "My turn tonight." 

"All right." Arthur tucked his wallet into his coat, but he couldn't take his eyes off Merlin's slowly reddening face.

"Look, I'm sorry I tried it on. I just thought, you know...angel's got to be worth even more points toward, um, the quota."

"Right. The quota." 

Merlin smiled tightly. "No harm in trying, right?"

Arthur wasn't so sure. In fact, the harm might be rather serious, he realized as he watched Merlin's face growing even pinker, Merlin pulling off his sunglasses uncomfortably, the dark sweep of Merlin's eyelashes as he buffed the glasses with a napkin, avoiding Arthur's gaze. And yes, Arthur was certain there was some harm done. Lasting damage, even, because then Arthur was saying, "My place, then."

He put his hand on Merlin's. Even Merlin's fingers had lost their unearthly elegance of a little earlier, had returned to merely—a bit bony, familiar in their movements, quick and well-known. 

Merlin's head shot up, his eyes searching, then said, "I'll drive."

*

Did Merlin ever think of that night in Canaan, too? It had been the first time that Arthur had wondered what this would have been like: the frenzied touches, tearing at clothes, desperate to couple yourself with another body. He hadn't understood, then. Even now he found it hard to believe that humans, with their tiny lifespans, could feel all this. 

They were sober tonight. But he felt much the same now as he had stumbling with Merlin through the roads of Canaan, breathless and dizzy and too warm. 

They had gotten falling down drunk. Falling over _each other_ drunk, though they had never spoken pleasantly before that evening, too busy trading jibes. That night, Arthur hadn't had the energy. He'd had cities to destroy in the morning, and he'd intended to spend the preceding hours getting as deep into his cups as possible. 

That was how Merlin had found him. They'd been circling the same few cities, longer than they usually spent in each other's spheres, squabbling over the humans they'd both come to favor. Arthur had liked the place. It was lively. Troubled, but here he knew he was needed. There was always someone to help. He thought he'd had an edge on Merlin. Even thought he'd been doing rather well, considering.

Then his brethren had arrived with orders from Above. Of course it was the right thing to do, they'd told him. Angels couldn't exactly do _wrong_ , could they? Our orders are clear. And just look at the place. It's hopeless.

His brethren had spent a mere night there. They had never eaten this city's food, walked among its shops. Watched generations of one family in one city, children and grandchildren growing up, and dying, and living. 

I'll do my duty, Arthur had told them, and decided to take himself away to the nearest inn before he could say any more than that to them.

Perhaps he had already grown used to Merlin, even then, because telling the demon had seemed like a necessary courtesy. Or perhaps, surrounded by drunken revelers, by life everywhere he looked, he'd cruelly known only Merlin could share the burden.

He'd expected a tirade from Merlin, and got one. "For Hell's sake, just don't do it!"

"I have my orders!" 

"We _know_ these people. Taste this wine, the hint of cedar, the cinnamon," he'd said, taking a gulp from Arthur's cup and swinging it wildly to gesture at the room, spilling some on the woman next to him. "Where are you going to get wine like this again?"

"There's a whole world of wines out there. And humans to make them. They..." Arthur had swallowed, looking ahead blankly so he wouldn't see Merlin's rage-pink face, or the people about them enjoying their last hours. "They don't live so long anyway. And the worthy, they'll have—eternity."

"Eternity's not the same." And then Merlin had demanded two more drinks, and joined him. Arthur was already too drunk to be surprised. He had instead whiled away the night with Merlin, sharing stories of the humans they'd liked best, the ones they'd miss tomorrow, the many they'd liked and missed already. 

They'd stumbled out in the early hours before dawn, supporting each other through the streets. A pair of lovers blocked their path down one of the narrow alleys, giving the two pause. They stood at the mouth of the alley for a while as the silhouettes mingled into one. 

Merlin's arm was about Arthur's shoulders, his weight making Arthur in turn lean against the wall. Merlin's body followed, half-falling until he was one long press against Arthur's whole body. Arthur grew faintly aware of their closeness, which had seemed so natural a moment ago. The cool stone was rough on Arthur's skin and Merlin's breath hot in his ear. One of the lovers moaned. Arthur felt warm all over.

"That looks nice," Merlin sighed. Arthur hummed in agreement. "I don't suppose, you'd ever—"

Arthur pulled away from the wall, and Merlin. "No, I—no, never." 

Merlin had stumbled from the sudden movement. Arthur could hardly make out Merlin's face in the dark. Merlin had looked a little confused, perhaps, or just drunk. Nothing in his eyes reflected the sudden churn in Arthur's stomach. Arthur would have make himself sober again, soon, or else vomit. He took a step back, breathing out hard.

"Wait," Merlin whispered, when he'd recovered his balance, reaching out to Arthur. Arthur held his breath. But Merlin had only been gesturing at the lovers. "Don't go that way, let's not interrupt them." 

"Oh. Oh, yes, of course," Arthur had said, blinking, and followed after Merlin's retreating back.

Leaving at dawn, sober and his heart in his throat, was the first time Arthur had ever disobeyed. He'd told Merlin to take what people he could out of the city before the fire came, and made him promise not to look back. 

For years after, he'd expected that first defiance to come back to bite him. Merlin could surely use this to drag Arthur down to his level. He waited for Merlin to throw it back in his face, for him to spread word of it Below until everyone knew, or simply for judgment to finally come down from Above. 

But nothing happened. The next time Merlin had spotted him, some decades later in Egypt, he had said nothing, but only grinned across the river at Arthur. He'd gotten himself a new human body, taller this time. His deep brown skin shined almost ebony under the hot sun. But his gangly frame and broad, ridiculous smile were all it took for Arthur's stomach to lurch with recognition. Then, with a snap of his fingers, Merlin had sent the barge Arthur was on rocking just enough to send Arthur flying into the Nile.

That was usual enough for his encounters with Merlin. Less usual was Merlin's invitation of a drink or eleven, later. Though eventually, that would become habit as well. And still, Merlin had never mentioned it.

It wasn't that he'd sought Merlin out more often, after that. Not with purpose, anyway. Yet they worked the same cities a little more, mere accidents of fate that turned into finding themselves in each other's company when there was nothing else to do. They even did one another's errands when it was more practical. It had to be something like practicality, to have kept the both of them in London for almost the past two decades. It was convenient, he'd decided, to keep an eye on the Adversary this way. Keep your enemies closer, etc.4

He long thought he'd forgotten the details of that night, and used it only as a marker of when their more peaceable Arrangement had come to form. Yet he'd always been careful to keep his body from pressing against Merlin's again, even in drunkenness or grief or joy, even after all this time. And their tangled closeness now, in the dark of Arthur's flat, did not feel so unfamiliar. 

"Oh, G—...Um. Oh, dear," Arthur managed to choke out. His cock was curving into Merlin's hands, leaking from the tip until Merlin, unbelievably, dipped down and licked it away with one swipe. 

"Please." If this was anything like what most humans felt like all the time, this arousal and closeness and drive for more please more, it was no wonder they were all so _human_.

Merlin, kneeling over him, pushed him flat onto his back and slithered up the bed. He shot one long, golden look at Arthur. It felt terribly frank, without the sunglasses, with Merlin in his bed. He hadn't let himself wait, or wonder, or hope. Yet tugging Merlin down to him, licking into his mouth as Merlin worked them both to climax, pulling Merlin close, afterward, felt like relief.

*

Arthur didn't have much cause for sleep. He knew Merlin indulged often, and now Merlin was breathing slowly, one arm draped hot and a little crushingly across Arthur's ribs, his cock nestled between Arthur's buttocks. Arthur thought of getting up, now, doing some reading as he normally did at this time of night. 

He closed his eyes instead, expecting long dragging awareness before sleep took him, and instead opened them again to find it was now morning. 

"I could, er. My plants at the flat need watering," Merlin said. Arthur sighed, turning over with some stiffness. Sleep was odd, and he was twinging in places this body had absolutely never twinged before. He gave Merlin the sternest look he could muster with Merlin's hair sticking up like that and pillow creases on his cheek. Merlin grinned, finally. And, well. It was possible Arthur had been purposefully using stern looks to elicit that grin, for longer than he himself had been strictly aware of.

"Or I could go make us some coffee," Merlin said.

"Tea. And, no, let's stay. Just for a bit," he murmured, and rolled onto Merlin to keep him there. If his cock nudged against Merlin's, just there, it was purely coincidence.

Merlin sighed and moved against him. He could feel Merlin's smile against his mouth, and was smiling himself when Merlin muttered, "Sloth," and then Arthur had to find some more creative ways to shut him up. 

***

1 Merlin was in fact cheerful for a demon. He most often looked harried when Arthur was prodding him to swing by further-flung parts of the world to do a quick blessing. Sometimes Arthur didn't have time to do himself, and if Merlin was going to be in the area to perform some temptations anyway, why not be efficient about it?

2 Arthur trusted implicitly that everyone was good deep down, but he'd also found that humans sometimes needed an initial nudge in the right direction. If the appearance of his human body was sometimes a factor in garnering attention—and if he happened to take some additional care when it came to his hair and clothes—well, all for a good cause.

3 Well, not _grace_ —call it courtesy.

4 It was also convenient to have a drinking partner who would not die from alcohol poisoning just when you were getting started.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of - written by whirligigged](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746217) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)




End file.
